


Dirtbag

by reyleaux (witchoil)



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: And Kylo Ren Has a Boner About It, Dirt Kink, F/M, Foe Yay, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rey Is Literally Dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 11:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12839811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchoil/pseuds/reyleaux
Summary: Alone, at night, he can’t stop thinking about her. Not because he’s desperate to push down the pain of a recent beating. And not because he longs for her or admires her. Nothing as juvenile as that.It’s just that he can’t stop thinking about all of the things he kriffinghatesabout her.





	Dirtbag

**Author's Note:**

> Written on a whim when I saw lilithsaur asking for something like this on tumblr. Enjoy!
> 
> Anon comments are on, as always. <3

Alone, at night, he can’t stop thinking about her. Not because he’s desperate to push away the pain that radiates down his limbs after taking a beating from the Knights at Snoke’s behest. And not because he  _longs_  for her or admires her. Nothing as juvenile as that. 

It’s just that he can’t stop thinking about all of the things he kriffing  _hates_ about her. 

Trying to lie gently on his bruised joints, Ren’s mind starts wandering to the bruises she gave him. Not that bad, in all honesty. She’s sloppy when she fights and that hasn’t changed since they first met. He would find it harmless, amusing even, if she didn’t still put him on his ass so much. 

So that’s one, he thinks: she’s a bad fighter. 

She’s also a terrible dresser - always showing up on desert planets with her skin exposed to the sun and landing on ice moons without a jacket. Absolutely idiotic, he thinks, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head against his pillow. 

Then there’s the way she  _eats_. A lump forms in Kylo’s throat as he thinks about it, his stomach twisting in disgust. He’s seen it more than he would like, the way she sucks down whatever is in front of her like she hasn’t eaten in two days. Most of the time, disgusting thing, she uses her small, dirty hands to shovel food directly into her mouth, as though she’d never learned about utensils. Then the chewing. God, the chewing. He could practically hear it a galaxy away. 

How she could fit so much in that small mouth– 

Kylo remembers the sight of stew dripping down from a delicate lip in one incident on Coruscant. She’d held him in a makeshift cell for four days and he was forced to watch her  _eat_  every few hours as she waited on word from the Resistance and he bided his time planning escape. 

The memory makes his gut clench and he can’t help it, but he feels something twitch below his navel. Yes, she did have a beautiful mouth, and yes, some part of him loved to see her stuff it full but– No, it was disgusting and that was that.

He’d watched her do repairs in the time she’d held him, too, how she would drag a part of an engine block into the room and get to work right in front of him, never speaking. She’d streak herself with grease and work up a sweat, arms always prying some part from another, brows always knit in concentration.

Her sweat tinted the fabric of her shirt, near the collar, under the arms, at the small of her back, beneath her breasts.  

But she’d never showered the whole time he was there, not even a sonic.  He could tell because of the grease stains, sure, but also the  _smell._ On day two the room they were sharing began to take on a musk Kylo knew was not his own, nor had been there when she’d pulled his half-conscious body through the door.

He remembers it now, even more clearly than the eating, how the smell of her had filled his nose for days, how much he’d hated it then.  

In the sterility of his bedsheets, he finds himself missing it a little, how she was so single-minded that way, head bent towards the goal, teeth grit, sweat dripping into her eyes until she was forced to mop it away to see. 

And with that image he also finds himself sticking an errant hand down his pants where he is already traitorously hard and leaking. 

It was acrid and sweet, her sweat, the smell of exertion and concentration and pure, animal apathy. 

And she was an animal, he thinks, jerking his palm roughly up and down his cock. When she’d laid him out on the snow of Starkiller, she’d looked at him like she wanted to rip his fucking throat out and piss down the hole. When she had apprehended him on Coruscant it had been the same, her teeth bared as she jammed a hypo into the muscle at the bottom of his neck, like she wanted to kill him with her bare hands. Bare, dirty hands he can’t help but imagine scraping blunt nails down his chest and stomach. If that was how she looked when she fought him, he can’t even imagine how she’d look fucking him. Probably the same, he thinks, squeezing himself at the base to stave off a quickly-approaching orgasm. She’d probably push him down despite how ill-equipped she should have been to handle him. She’d probably ruin his own clothes with her engine grease and sweat and blood from untended wounds. Then – he speeds up his pace now, lost to it, to how good it feels to imagine every disgusting inch of her covering every inch of him – she’d ride him like she meant to kill him. She’d use those same hands on his neck, turning his face to bare the scar she gave him to her gaze. He could imagine her clenching tight around him – his throat, his cock – as she leaned down, threat in her eyes, and told him the truth of it without room for denial. 

“You’re mine,” she would say, “Scavenged from the heap, but now you’re mine. Only mine.” 

Breathing hard, body aching, Kylo’s abdomen contracts and he can’t help it at all – he’s coming all over his own stomach and chest. He’s coming so hard some of it splashes on his chin, sticky-warm and salt-smelling. It feels like it lasts forever. Like his body can’t get it all out, how he feels about her, how he wants her. Even his prick feels tender after, still twitching a little as he starts to go soft in his hand. 

Disgusting, Kylo Ren thinks, dragging a finger through his spend. Disgusting that he should do this. Disgusting that she should make him do this, he thinks, now sucking greedily on that same finger. She’s only going to get him dirtier if he lets this go on. 


End file.
